


A Dream Gallery

by Riley_Hawkes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gallery au, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riley_Hawkes/pseuds/Riley_Hawkes
Summary: Clarke opens her gallery with an uncharacteristic new set of paintings of a warrior woman. Little does she expect that same beautiful woman to show up at her gallery and speak with her!
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	A Dream Gallery

Clarke walked towards the door to her gallery, her keys jingling in her hand as she reached to unlock it. It was just another day, she whispered to herself. Not the grand opening of her new show. She unlocked the door and walked inside, glancing around and making sure that all was in order from the preparations the night before. The opening started early today, Saturday, so she had prepared everything beforehand and just needed to open the doors and do some last minute tidying. A scrap of paper on the floor- in the wastebasket. A bit of dusting that needed to get done. Just some few touch ups. 

Her most recent series of paintings was based upon some strange dreams she had. They all seemed to center around the same woman. Long, dark hair, war paint, and occasionally a strange circular thing stuck to her forehead. She had a face that tapered beautifully, and Clarke was amazed her brain had come up with such a stunning woman. 

Most of the paintings were dark- muted greens, browns, and grays. The woman’s war paint was the only thing keeping her from jumping off the canvas, and instead blended into the background like camouflage. Some pieces had bright red splotches- blood. It was very out of the ordinary for Clarke’s works, which often were light, airy, heroic pieces that would be a wonderful addition to someone’s home. That’s why she was so nervous for this opening- she would need to attract an all new set of patrons than who normally purchased her pieces. These types of pieces were more for name than decoration. One had to feel a special connection to the piece to purchase it. They tended to not make good displays. 

Clarke walked over to the refreshments table and quickly made sure the food was sorted. It was just small snacks- juice and chips and the like. The main focus was, of course, her paintings. She opened the doors and waited to see who would come in that day. 

\---

People came and went fairly regularly from her gallery that day. It was a beautiful day and the street had a lot of foot traffic, which was always a blessing for her openings. Some people showed interest in her paintings until they saw the prices- Clarke had used her best materials on these works, and priced them accordingly. She was beginning to think that was a mistake when a young woman walked in. She had an air of confidence and power about her. She radiated strength and Clarke was immediately drawn to her. But what shocked Clarke the most was this was most definitely the woman from her paintings. There was no war paint, her hair was much cleaner, her skin not quite so tanned, but there was no mistaking her face. Clarke gasped, but the woman seemed to take no notice of her resemblance to the paintings. 

Clarke wanted to hide. What if she noticed?

The woman walked around slowly, admiring each piece in turn. Her confidence drew Clarke in and she found herself watching as this woman continued her rounds of the gallery. Clarke was so transfixed that she jumped when someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was another customer, asking about the price of a smaller, more vibrant piece that wasn’t quite so obviously about a violent warrior woman. It fell on the more abstract side than some of the others, and one Clarke knew would garner more interest than the rest of the series. As she finished dealing with the customer, she looked up and searched for the woman, but alas, she had disappeared. 

\---

The next day, the gallery was quiet. Not many people came or went, as the rain had diminished foot traffic significantly. Around lunchtime, the chimes at the door sounded off, and Clarke looked up from her easel in the studio at the back of the gallery. It was the woman again! She walked confidently over to one of the portraits, one of Clarke’s favourites in fact, which showed the woman, war paint and all, in a beautiful golden sunlight contrasted with the dark greenish forest in the background. The woman stood at this painting for a while, as Clarke set down her brushes and washed off her hands to go greet her. 

As she approached the woman seemed to pay her no notice. She reached a hand up gently, as if to caress the portrait’s cheek.   
“Please don’t touch.” Clarke said with a smile, snapping the woman out of her daze. 

“Oh sorry!” The woman responded. “Are you the artist?” She questioned, glancing down at Clarke’s paint-covered apron and hands. 

“I am.” 

The woman turned back to the piece, admiring it once more, before saying “I came to your opening yesterday, but with so many people in the gallery, I thought I’d come back today.” She shifted, turning towards Clarke, glancing at the next painting in line. “This woman is beautiful.” A smirk played on her face and Clarke realised that the woman saw the resemblance. 

“I’m Clarke.” She said, holding out her paint-covered hand. The woman took it firmly and responded, “Lexa.” 

“So, what do you think?” Clarke gestured to her paintings. 

Lexa turned to the one she’d been admiring a moment before. “This is my favourite. Tell me, what’s your inspiration?” 

Clarke hesitated, unsure of what to say. Lexa continued. “I mean, these seem very different from the older paintings you’ve got in here.” 

“Honestly, they’re inspired by some dreams I’ve been having recently.” 

Lexa smiled. “Oh, so I’m in your dreams, am I?” A smirk played across her lips again as she looked at Clarke out of the corner of her eye. Clarke blushed, feeling called out. Trying to feed off of Lexa’s confidence, she replied “Well, how can I resist such a beautiful woman to be my muse?”

Lexa smiled at her and turned to face her again. Clarke, building up confidence said, “You know… I was just about to head out to lunch. Would you like to join me?” 

“I suppose.” Lexa mused, but Clarke could see in her eyes that she did want to come.   
Lexa replied, “There’s a great french restaurant just around the corner. Does that sound good to you?” 

“Absolutely, let me just wash up really quickly.” Clarke turned to her sink, and began scrubbing the dried paint off of her hands and arms. Lexa perused the paintings some more, and stopped on a particularly bloody one. (Clarke had kept this one fairly abstract- there was definitely no detail to the piece, but one couldn’t mistake the strong shape of Lexa, holding a sword, slashing at another figure’s neck.) 

As Clarke finished up washing, Lexa turned to the final piece in the series, one different than all the others- a small child. She had dark hair- darker than Lexa’s- and held so much innocence in her face. The painting seemed out of place if you looked purely at the subject, but Clarke had deliberately kept the palette similar to all the others. In her dreams, this was Lexa’s child. “Who is this?” Lexa said. Clarke laughed, “I thought you’d know honestly. In my dreams she was the daughter.” 

They stepped out of the gallery and Clarke flipped the sign to “back in an hour” and locked the handle. Turning to the left, her fingers danced on Lexa’s hand. At the restaurant, they got a table for two, and neither looked at the menu. “Come here often?” Clarke joked.   
Lexa nodded. “I get the same thing every time.” Clarke didn’t want to admit that she also frequented this establishment, and in fact the wait staff knew what she was getting. 

\--- 

After they finished eating, both with their arms resting on the table, they stared into each others’ eyes. Their conversation had not stopped the whole meal, and they were really hitting it off. Lexa tore her gaze away from Clarke’s and said “I know you need to be getting back to your gallery but-” Clarke cut her off. “Nobody’s been coming in anyways, I’ve got time.” Lexa smiled. “Well, I live nearby, I was wondering if you perhaps wanted to come over later?” 

Clarke was surprised at first by the offer, but excitement soon took over. “I’d love to see your place.” 

“Well I don’t want to keep you from your gallery, so let me give you my number. Just text me when you get off, and I’ll tell you where to go.” 

\---

Clarke couldn’t stop thinking about Lexa. The fact that not only was this woman actually real, but also gay? Amazing. Clarke couldn’t believe her luck. Or maybe it was fate. Either way, she couldn’t believe it. The day dragged on so slowly after her lunch break, and she couldn’t focus on the painting she was doing, so she set aside her current painting and opted to start a new one. 

This one would turn out to be one of her best pieces. It was a portrait of Lexa, but not the Lexa from her dreams. This time it was Lexa from the French restaurant. The colors matched her previous works more than her recent series- whites, light blues, yellows, pastels. And Lexa herself was saturated and bright. 

Clarke only got the base colors down before it was time to close up shop. She left the painting to be finished another day and pulled out her phone to text Lexa. 

Lexa responded almost immediately with the address. “Be there in 10 minutes!” Clarke replied. 

\---

When she walked up to the apartment and knocked on the door, Lexa’s voice called from inside. “Come in!” 

Clarke twisted the doorknob and gently pushed the door open, taking in the beautiful apartment. It was lit with candles and smelled of roses. She laughed to herself, it was so cheesy, but she loved it. 

Lexa called from the other room, “I’m in the kitchen!” A delicious smell wafted in, and so Clarke followed it. Lexa had prepared a wonderful dinner for two, set at her modern dining room table- complete with dessert. But better than the dessert was Lexa’s outfit. She was wearing a black, low boat neck shirt, and her red bra was showing on her shoulders. The pants she wore were not leaving much left to imagination. Clarke tried not to eat up the view, but she could tell, Lexa was aware. Clarke couldn’t wait for after dinner. 

At dinner, they talked about how the rest of the day went and Clarke avoided describing her new piece in too much detail. Lexa apparently went grocery shopping for this meal after scouring the internet for good recipes. Not too much had happened that afternoon for either of them. Lexa popped open a bottle of wine, and they talked for a good hour after dinner, relaxing and getting to know one another even better. 

“Clarke, I want to be completely honest with you. I think you’re beautiful. I’d love for you to stay the night with me.”   
Clarke smiled. “Lexa… I never even imagined that the woman I saw in my dreams would be a real person, let alone that she’d invite me over. This is a dream so far. Everything you’ve done has been amazing, the dinner, the dessert, the wine.” 

Clarke took Lexa’s hand, and then glanced around the room, looking for the bedroom. The door was open, so she led Lexa up, and to the bed. Lexa followed, wrapping her arm around Clarke’s waist. As they reached the bed, Lexa leaned over and started a passionate kiss. Clark hadn’t experienced anything like this before, and it was certainly nothing like the men she’d been with. As they kissed, Lexa drew her arms around Clarke, softly rubbing at her waist. Clarke put her hands on Lexa’s smooth stomach. Lexa broke the kiss. “If you want to stop, just say the word and we stop.” Clarke smiled and pulled her in for another kiss. They continued like this for a few minutes, eating up each other’s tastes and exploring each other’s bodies with their hands. After a while, Lexa broke off the kiss again to take off her shirt. Clarke followed suit, removing her paint-stained jeans as well, and they picked up where they’d left off, this time just in bras and panties. Lexa’s hands twiddled with the clasp on Clarke’s bra, and then her own. They shed the cups and the skin to skin contact made Clarke’s heart race further. 

Lexa slowly reached down. “Are you ready?” She whispered in Clarke’s ear. Clarke nodded eagerly. Lexa slipped her hand down below, and felt for Clarke’s clit. Everything was wet with arousal, and Clarke squirmed at the touch. Slowly. Lexa added a finger into the mix, and then another. She began gently pushing and pulling, curling her fingers to hit that spot just right. “Lexa” Clarke whispered. Lexa smiled. Clarke began rocking her hips up and down, in time with Lexa’s movements. Lexa brought her lips down to Clarke’s chest, finding the nipples. The extra stimulation sent Clarke over the edge, and Lexa felt the contractions of pleasure just as Clarke let out a soft moan. “Lexa…” She began kissing higher and higher until she reached Clarke’s jawline, and then rested there. 

Clarke breathed heavily. She turned her head to Lexa, and kissed her lips softly. “That was amazing.” She was still out of breath. She rolled to her side, towards Lexa, and began kissing her lips again. She ran her hand softly down Lexa’s side to where her underwear sat, and fiddled with the edge of them seductively. She reached her hand around and cupped Lexa’s butt, pulling her close. 

She moved her hands to the front again, and tried to follow what Lexa had done to her. She found Lexa’s clit, and began gently rubbing it in circles. Lexa sunk her head into Clarke’s neck and kissed her, knowing she was going to leave quite an exceptional mark the next morning. Clarke began rubbing faster, and Lexa whispered “More.” Clarke slowed, and then pulled her hand back. Licking her fingers, she went back in, and used her middle finger to explore inside Lexa’s folds. Adding another finger into the mix, Lexa began to rock her hips. “Keep going Clarke.” She breathed out. Clark couldn’t help but listen to that amazing voice. She began curling and uncurling her fingers as Lexa had done, and she immediately knew that was the right move. She detached herself from Lexa to some protests, but as she brought her face down to her hands, the protests quickly moved to eager panting. She found Lexa’s clit with her tongue and went to work. Lexa soon climaxed as well, and then they collapsed next to each other, panting hard.   
They curled up close, and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
